Newcastle itself comes as a surprise. The heavy industry is still there, but the last couple of decades have transformed the foreshore of the Hunter River. You’d be hard-pushed to find a more blissful day in an Australian city than strolling along said foreshore, flitting between museums, parks and brewhouses, then continuing up the coast.
The city does a fine line in beaches, but it’s the pools between them that weave a magic spell. The Newcastle Ocean Baths are a giant art deco people-watching arena, while the convict-dug Bogey Hole ups the thrill factor by having the surf smash into it, drenching anyone foolish enough to stand on the side.
Seemingly equally foolish is self-driving in wine country – and that’s why many companies run wine tours around the Hunter Valley. But played smart, driving can be the way to expand your horizons. Dropping by at the tourist information centre on the way in works wonderfully – their printed guides have maps of the wineries, stating which ones do which varietals and staff will direct you to smaller cellar doors that are more likely to cater for your tastes.
I tend to like big, fighty reds, so I’m pointed in the direction of Piggs Peake – a backroad winery that doesn’t serve tour groups. Most of its business is done via a membership club – meaning you’re unlikely to see the wines in a supermarket. And the free samples reveal themselves to be the meaty, feisty monsters I whole-heartedly love.
The limitations of self-drive sampling can turn into strengths. Staying under the drink-drive limit involves forcing you to ask questions about which wines you’re most likely to enjoy and narrow down the number of samples to the ones cellar door staff particularly recommend. Not being in a group leads to a much more personalised service – and, if you ask nicely, further recommendations for other wineries that may fit the bill. It starts becoming a treasure trail – Adina also does olive tasting, there’s excellent cheese to try next to the big McGuigan cellar, Peterson’s does rare-for-the-Hunter Zinfandels.
In the morning before heading back to Sydney, I pop into Kevin Sobel’s on Broke Road for a sneaky final tasting session. As an unusually sweet, fruity verdelho is poured, out walks Archie. He’s the winery’s resident St Bernard, ever-ready for a good fussing. The road trip ends as it begins – with a heart-warmingly unexpected wildlife encounter.